White Sand

by Brandon Sanderson

  “Sleep well?” a lazy voice asked.

  Kenton spun to find Delious and his steward speaking with the ship captain beside the port wale.

  “When did we arrive?” Kenton asked anxiously.

  “Less than an hour ago,” Delious replied. “The darkside girl insisted we let you sleep a little longer.”

  “Where are they?”

  “In the city,” Delious said with a nod. “The Kershtian went to visit the temple; the others trying to figure out where old Vey is hiding.”

  Kenton turned, scanning the city. Lraezare was built where the Ali met the ocean. Most of the city lay on the eastern side of the river, where reefs formed a natural bay that made a perfect dock. The city itself extended along the crescent-like peninsula which ran a short distance out into the ocean. It was built on an incline, with a line of enormous mansions running in a row at the hill’s apex. The homes of the Shipowner’s Circle.

  Even as Kenton searched, he noted a distinctive dark-skinned form approaching down one of the main streets. Baon was very easy to pick out of a crowd, and Lraezare wasn’t nearly as busy as Kezare. Khriss and the others were walking with him.

  “Lord Admiral?” an amazed voice said.

  Kenton turned. He had been so focused on studying the city that he hadn’t noticed the blue-robed attendant who had walked up the plank. He was a short man with tiny, coin-like ears and wide eyes. His robes bore the symbol of the Helm on the breast—a symbol encased in a bright red circle.

  “Yes?” Delious asked as he turned toward the man. The Lord Admiral suddenly appeared more drunk than he had just a moment before. He even managed to stumble and nearly topple to the deck as he turned—only his steward’s steadying hand prevented the collapse.

  “My Lord …” the Helm member said, still stunned. “We weren’t aware that you were coming to visit.”

  “I came on a whim,” Delious said, gesturing with his hand—the hand that held the cup. The movement accidentally sprayed the attendant with red drops of wine. Delious appeared not to have noticed the mistake.

  The man turned, wiping a drop of wine from his forehead, noticing Kenton for the first time. His eyes thinned in suspicion. “I’ll go and tell the Circle of your arrival, My Lord,” he said to Delious.

  “If you wish,” Delious said with a shrug. “I don’t see that it will matter, however. We’ll be leaving soon—I have to make certain the Lord Mastrell gets back in time for the next Council meeting. You’ve heard of that, haven’t you?”

  The man paused for a moment. “Yes, My Lord. Good day, My Lord.” He bowed, turning to dash down the plank.

  Yes, you’ve heard of the Council meeting, Kenton thought suspiciously. He remembered well Delious’s comments at the party a few days back—the Circle stood to gain a lot in shipping privileges to the kerla if the Diem were disbanded. Of all the Kelzin in Lossand, they had the greatest cause to oppose Kenton.

  “Who was that?” Eric asked, climbing up the plank.

  “I’m not certain,” Kenton admitted, shooting a look back at Delious. The man was smiling foppishly, but there was an evil glint in his eye. What are you planning, Lord Admiral?

  “Kenton, are you all right?” Khriss’s voice rose behind him as the woman pushed past Eric and onto the deck.

  “I feel surprisingly good,” Kenton admitted.

  “And the …”

  “Sand?” Kenton asked. He shook his head. “No, not back yet.”

  “It will come,” she encouraged.

  “It had better,” Eric noted. “Well, you have reason to thank us again, great Lord Mastrell.”

  “You found him?” Kenton assumed.

  Eric nodded.

  “He’s staying with one of the local Kelzi,” Khriss explained. “A man named Lokkall.”

  Delious snorted.

  “What?” Kenton asked.

  “Lokkall is head of the Shipowner’s Circle. He’s the man that does what I should.” Delious smiled to himself. “Perhaps we should pay him a visit? I’m certain he’d be happy to see me. Then, we can all have a little discussion.”

  “An excellent idea,” Kenton said. “Let’s go. I’m eager to see the Lord Merchant again.”

  “Not as eager as I am to see his face when you walk in that door,” Delious said quietly.

  #

  If Khriss were going to live on dayside, this would be the city she would choose. The sun was low in the sky, more than halfway down to the horizon. The resulting shadows were deep and cool, and now that it was lower in the sky, the sun seemed to have lost some of its power. For the first time since she had arrived on dayside, she found she was able to go out in the light without her dark spectacles.

  The entire city seemed to have a more leisurely feel to it. There were people on the streets, but they strolled instead of rushed. The streets were cobbled, and the buildings looked more …relaxed. They weren’t squished together, like they were in Kezare. They were still made primarily of carapace and stone as opposed to wood, but the simpler one-story structures were more visually appealing than the Kezare versions.

  The only thing wrong with the city was the hill. It was incredibly steep, and her legs were already complaining from being forced to climb it for the second time in a few hours. This time, however, she would have to go all the way to the top, not just half-way, where they had found the local Hall of Judgement. The trackts there had easily answered their questions as to the location of the Lord Merchant.

  Kenton strode beside her, looking, as he said, fully recovered from the previous day’s weakness. Khriss was still worried about him. Still, he looked fine, striding purposely up the hill. He seemed to be dealing well with his loss of mastering ability. She caught him reaching for his sand pouch occasionally, but he never said anything, never complained. In his arm, Kenton carried a ledger with a thin carapace binding. He had retrieved it from his trunk before they left.

  “What is that, anyway?” she asked, pointing at the ledger.

  Kenton looked down. “This? It’s the record of how much the Diem owes.”

  Khriss frowned. “Why bring it?” she asked.

  “If I can’t get Vey on my side, then maybe I can get him to tell me who I owe the rest of this money to. If anyone has record of something like that, it would be him. In this case, I think he’d be eager to help me—it would, after all, involve laughing at the hopelessness of my cause.”

  Khriss nodded, holding out her hand for the ledger. Kenton handed to her, and she flipped to the last page as they walked. There, at the bottom, she found the daunting number.

  700,000 lak. How could someone possibly accrue so much debt? Yet, as she flipped through the pages, she noted that it went back decades—even centuries. There was an entry every month.

  “Seven hundred thousand,” she said out loud, her voice amazed.

  “I know,” Kenton said with dissatisfaction. “With that kind of debt, it’s no wonder the others want to get rid of us.

  And it didn’t look like there was any way around it. She deciphered the writing top—it was written in Kersha—which announced quite prominently that the enormous number in the second column was the ‘amount owed.’

  “Good luck,” she mumbled, handing him back the ledger.

  #

  Delious threw open the doors, striding into the home as if it were his own. “Hello?” he announced as several servants began to rush forward, their faces confused. “I’ve come for a visit! Someone bring me something to drink.”

  Kenton stepped in after the Lord Admiral, somewhat less certain of himself. Maybe they should have knocked … .

  “Welcome, Lord Admiral,” a voice said. Lokkall was a tall, distinguished Kershtian man with thin beard and a long face. His voice, despite its words, did not sound very welcoming. “Your visit is … unexpected.”

  “I exist to make your life exciting,” Delious announced, his overly-drunk persona returning. He leaned against a side wall, nearly knocking an intricately-painted vase off a ne
arby pedestal. A servant steadied it just in time.

  “Where is our dear friend the Lord Merchant?” Delious asked innocently.

  “The Lord Merchant?” Lokkall said, mock confusion on his face. “Why would I know where he is?”

  Kenton frowned in dissatisfaction. Off to the side, standing behind several of the servants, he could make out a familiar blue robe—the attendant that had confronted Delious on the ship’s deck just a short while before.

  Vey was warned, Kenton thought with disappointment. Yet, they had left the ship just after the attendant. Vey couldn’t have gotten much of a warning. He was probably still in the building somewhere.

  “Vey, this is ludicrous,” Kenton said, stepping forward. He spoke loudly, looking up at the second story and its closed doors with a frown on his face. “If you didn’t want to vote for me, that is your choice. I will not force you do so. But you needn’t run. Surely you have more dignity than that. If you are so determined to destroy the Diem, then strike a blow against it valiantly. Don’t hide from sand mastery with a whimper and hope it will go away.”

  There was no response.

  Kenton sighed. “All right,” he said. Opening the ledger. “If you aren’t going to come back, then you can at least …” he trailed off, sighing as he looked down at the ledger.

  Suddenly, the awesome weight of what he had to do pressed down on him. How had he possibly hoped to succeed? Why had he even tried? Why had he bothered coming south? Vey wasn’t going to go back with him. It had been a foolish idea in the first place. So many people hated the Diem, and it owed so much … .

  Amount owed. Suddenly, his eyes opened wide. Could it be?

  His head snapped up. “All right, Vey,” he said. “If that is the way you want it. I’ll just take this ledger I found in my father’s office, the one that lists seven hundred lak on the bottom line, and turn it into the Lady Judge. I’m certain she—”

  A door burst open at the top of the stairs, and a sweating Vey sprung out. “No!” he wailed.

  Kenton looked up at the Lord Merchant. The man was a wreck—his hands were shaking, his eyes wide, and his clothing disheveled.

  “Let’s talk,” Kenton said, smiling slightly to himself. “Lord Lokkall, do you mind if we use one of your rooms?”

  Lokkall paused, looking up at Vey. Then he looked back at Kenton, noting the golden sash. “Of course not, Lord Mastrell,” he said with a slight frown on his face.

  Kenton walked up the steps, resting his hand on Vey’s shoulder as he reached the top, leading the small Kershtian man toward the back room.

  “Trying to leave me behind, Lord Mastrell?” a voice demanded.

  Kenton turned. Ais stood in the doorway below. “Ah, you’re here,” he said. “Good. You should hear this. Come on.”

  Ais frowned at the comment, but he did walk up the stairs and join Kenton and Vey. The three entered the room, which turned out to be some sort of study, with a desk, bookshelf, and several stools.

  Kenton closed the door behind him. “You owe the Diem seven hundred thousand lak, don’t you, Vey?” he asked.

  Vey groaned softly, taking a seat on a stool.

  Kenton smiled, but for some reason he didn’t feel like gloating. He thinks his life is destroyed, Kenton realized, suddenly feeling sorry for the man. If it came out that he had such a large debt, he wouldn’t just lose his place as Lord Merchant, but his status as a kelzi as well. Oh sands, I know how he must feel.

  “But how?” Kenton asked. “How could you possibly …” he paused. The amount had been accruing for centuries. “The Lord Merchant acquires all the wealth of his predecessor. Does that mean he acquires all of the former Lord Merchant’s debts too?”

  Vey nodded, looking sick. Ais stood beside the far wall, watching the Lord Merchant with keen eyes.

  “A long time ago, a Lord Mastrell must have started a personal account with a Lord Merchant,” Kenton guessed. “And, since the Diem didn’t really need money, the Lord Mastrell would place all of the tribute money in the account.”

  “His name was Hennin,” Vey whispered. “An idiot of a Lord Merchant. He acquired the position by accident—a relative died, leaving him a fortune that, stacked upon the one his father left him, was enough to win him the title of Lord Merchant. Unfortunately, he ruled for a very long time. When the next Lord Merchant obtained the position, he found a previous unknown ledger listing a vast amount owed to the Lord Mastrell. The interest that had been accruing was monumental. Hennin had lost most of his fortune in the failed deal that lost him the Lord Merchantship, so the new Lord Merchant didn’t acquire any of the man’s money—only his debts.

  “Over the next few centuries, the interest continued to accrue. Eventually it became so large that no Lord Merchant could ever pay it. Fortunately, the Lord Mastrell was willing to keep the account private, which meant it wasn’t counted in the Lord Merchant’s public avowal of wealth. Otherwise, every Lord Merchant that inherited the Taisha would immediately lose it.

  “The Lord Mastrells used the debt to force the Lord Merchants into continuing to pay the tribute. Each quarter, the Lord Merchant would have to send two thousand lak of his personal fortune to the Diem. The Lord Mastrell would immediately return it, of course—telling the Lord Merchant to deposit it in the private account. So, while the Lord Merchants didn’t actually lose money, the private debt grew incredibly large.”

  “And now that debt is yours,” Kenton said, feeling sorry for the poor man before him. Vey was weeping openly now, and Ais was regarding the man with a look of barely-veiled disgust.

  “Someone else must know about it,” Kenton continued. “Otherwise it would simply be one Taisha’s word against another. The Lady Judge?”

  Vey nodded.

  Kenton shook his head ruefully. You knew all along, Lady Heelis. You gave me a seemingly impossible task, knowing all the time that there was a way to get beyond it.

  “The Lord Judge several decades ago decreed that the debt wasn’t good for Lossand,” Vey explained between quiet sobs. “He said that when and if the Lord Mastrell demanded payment, the Lord Merchant at that time would have to take responsibility for the full amount, rather than passing it on to his successor.”

  “That is harsh,” Kenton said, shaking his head.

  Vey took a deep breath. “Well, you have succeeded, Ry’Kensha,” he hissed. “You’ve beaten me—you can continue a century-long tradition of blackmail. Hall sanctioned blackmail, no less. Force the Lord Merchant to be your slave, as others have done before you. You have my vote, just keep this debt silent.”

  Kenton regarded the man, sitting abjectly on the stool. No wonder he hates the Diem so. I almost hate the Diem for doing something like that. The worst thing was, his position seemed to demand that he continue the extortion. Or, at least, just long enough to get Vey’s vote.

  But, could he? He had spent the last few weeks preaching that the Diem could change, that it would change. What would it matter to get Vey’s vote if by doing so he had to sacrifice the Diem’s integrity?

  The Council was right, Kenton realized. The Diem should have been disbanded.

  “I don’t want your vote, Vey,” Kenton said quietly.

  The Lord Merchant looked up with a distrusting eye.

  “I want your support,” Kenton explained. “The two aren’t the same. The debt is foolishness—consider it forgiven.”

  Vey’s jaw dropped in stupefaction. More satisfying, however, was the look of amazement on Ais’s face. Kenton smiled slightly to himself, but his stomach churned at the mistake he had missed. If only he could … .

  No, he decided. I’ve already made my decision. The Lady Judge is right—if the Diem can’t convinced the people of Lossand that it should exist, then it doesn’t deserve to do so. That includes the Kershtians, the trackts, and the merchants. I’ve spent my life trying to force people to do what I want. I won’t see the Diem’s rebirth founded on such principles.

  He turned with a quiet sigh, pulling ope
n the door. How was he going to explain this to the others? Khriss would probably kill him.

  “Wait,” Vey objected. “What are your demands?”

  “Demands?” Kenton asked. “There are none, Vey. I don’t expect you to be responsible for that money—it was improperly gained. The mastrells extorted it out of the Guild, forcing your to use your own money to push yourselves deeper into debt. That’s simply not right.”

  “But,” Vey said, his face completely baffled. “I have to vote for you before the debt will be forgiven, don’t I?”

  Kenton shook his head. “You vote as your conscience demands, Vey. Represent the people of your Profession as you have been elected to do. If you think that the Diem’s continuation is not in their best interests, then you have no choice but to vote against me.”

  The concept seemed beyond Vey’s comprehension. Of course, Kenton had just abandoned seven hundred thousand lak. That was a fairly amazing amount of money.

  Vey considered his words for a moment, obviously unable to believe that the shadow that had oppressed him for so long was finally gone.

  “What do you want?” Vey finally asked.

  “Want?” Kenton asked, turning. “What I want is a loan, Vey. Two hundred thousand lak—from the Guild, not you—to pay off our debts. You can take a lean against the sand masters’s future wages until the sum is paid off. The interest from such an amount alone should be enough to make the Guild a handsome sum.”

  “And I don’t have to vote for you?” Vey asked, still stunned.

  “No,” Kenton said, shaking his head.

  “But, if I don’t, then I won’t make the money off the loan,” Vey assumed.

  “I suppose,” Kenton said with a shrug.

  “So it is a threat!” Vey decided with a satisfied smile.

  “No … it …” Kenton sighed. “Never mind.”

  “Well, I accept your proposition, Lord Mastrell,” Vey announced, catching Kenton’s eye. There was intellect there—Vey wasn’t quite as misunderstanding as he had made himself seem.

  He won’t be able to justify his switched vote unless there’s some reason, Kenton realized. The members of his profession think in terms of monetary gain and loss. If Vey changed his mind because of my kindness, he would be ridiculed. If he voted for me because of some future monetary gain, however … .